


Conquest

by MrSpears



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dom Loki (Marvel), King Thor (Marvel), M/M, Post-Ragnarok, Power Play, Sub Thor (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 14:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/MrSpears
Summary: Thor could turn any chair into a throne. Loki could make a room his entire palace.And here it is only the two of them. In this kingdom established just now. With Loki the sovereign lord, and Thor his…What is Thor to him, exactly?





	Conquest

“Up.”

Loki’s voice shatters the peace. The quiet thrum of an air conditioner is no match for those warm, throaty tones. It takes Thor a moment to recover from the downward spiral of his thoughts, a single word from his brother running down the length of his spine. Darker and more furious than lightning. 

Thor closes his eyes and smiles, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, between his tired eyes. 

“Loki,” he sounds as tired as he feels. “Your voice is almost as clear as if you were actually here.” 

Why his brother has chosen now to project, to send a little glimmer of himself – Thor was sure he could never guess. Those shimmering holograms, shades – whatever his brother might fancy to call them. They were all sent to torment him, he was only ever certain of that. 

A hand on his shoulder, slim and cold like biting winter frost seeking out the cracks in glass. Loki knew how to weasel his way into Thor’s every defensive crevice. 

“Up,” two fingers tap him on the shoulder, and his brother’s voice hasn’t lost that mischievous lilt. “You are in my seat.” 

Thor’s mouth quirks, his smile spreading a bit wider. He lifts his hands as if surrendering his position, but he does not turn his head. “I am Thor, son of Odin – why should I yield my seat to you?” 

A chasmal silence stretches between the two of them. Loki would let it yawn forever, his hand resting on the bend between Thor’s neck and shoulder. His weakness. 

Another shiver. Thor stands, each motion feeling painfully scrutinized, Loki’s poison green gaze never tearing itself away. Not for a moment. He steps away from the chair, turning to face his brother. Loki glances up, thick black lashes and straight black brows. He arches one, a smug sneer taking over his lips as he oozes his way into the seat – one long leg following the other, elegant back resting against one arm with his boots thrown over the opposite. He lounges, feline and svelte. Irresistible, in every regard. 

Thor could turn any chair into a throne. Loki could make a room his entire palace. 

And here it is only the two of them. In this kingdom established just now. With Loki the sovereign lord, and Thor his…

What is Thor to him, exactly? 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Thor lets it slip out. The old bitterness between them. The safest default mode he has. 

“I can hardly believe it, myself. The conditions you are letting yourself live in these days.” Loki glances around with that familiar disdain, as if he can hardly bring himself to look upon the place. 

“What is it this time?” The thread of weariness just makes Thor’s voice gruff. Like a serrated knife being dragged over his vocal chords. Loki turns his head back to his brother, slowly, glancing up again, white fingers curling in the air towards his palm, up and down, curl and uncurl in what seems to be a tic. 

“I think you know why,” he lets it slip like some salacious secret. A bit of mischief to be kept behind closed doors. Thor swallows, audibly, his Adam’s apple dipping as he feels his chest tighten. 

“Thor,” Loki’s tongue rolls the name around his mouth like hard candy. “If you were to be king, what would that make me?” 

“I don’t know,” Thor doesn’t fool himself into thinking he is clever enough to keep up with his brother’s quick mind.

“Subordinate,” each syllable is drawn out, spat out. The word has a clunky, unwelcoming sound. 

“Never,” Thor can’t swallow again. The words are stuck in his throat, they barely fall out of his mouth. 

Loki tilts his chin up, only slightly, his ink black hair tumbling away from his shoulders as he moves enough to extend one hand towards his brother. Thor steps closer to him, heavy boots thudding against the ground as he feels like he shuffles. A behemoth, a war mount for this far more graceful creature. He takes hold of Loki’s hand. It rests in his hot palm, so stark in contrast to his own bronze skin. 

“Do I make it seem easy,” Loki’s voice sounds more pensive than hollow, “to rule?” 

“Everything is effortless to you,” Thor says, rigid, “or it looks that way.” 

Loki smiles again, and the expression on his face is unreadable. His fingers tighten over Thor’s, as tight as steel bands. “Kneel,” another single, solid word. And it slams into Thor, a physical blow to the chest. He can’t breathe, again. 

“No,” he doesn’t know why he resists. There isn’t any point. 

Loki doesn’t move, doesn’t relax his grip. Thor’s fingertips are starting to feel numb. They tingle, only a little. 

“Kneel,” when there is no movement, Loki’s voice drops down to a cold whisper. Like a winter wind, like ice cracking. “Will you make me repeat myself, a third time?” 

There is so much promised threaded throughout such words. And danger, edging it like lace. Thor didn’t even know there was a carpet underneath him, but he feels it when one knee hits the floor, and then the other. He takes a deep breath, his chest feeling tighter than before as he looks up at his brother. Loki is so naturally superior – a beautiful, faineant god. Thor leans over, enough to pull his brother’s sharp knuckles closer to his mouth. He brushes his lips against them; another sudden chill. 

“If you are to be king,” Loki smiles, “what am I?” 

“Ruler,” Thor mutters, his lips still pressed against the opulent ring that rests so heavily on his brother’s thin fingers. “Without question.” 

“You are the thunder.” 

“You are the storm,” Thor squeezes Loki’s hand. “They hear me, they feel your wrath.” 

“Herald my destruction,” Loki’s hand slips out of his as his brother rights himself in the chair, long legs and shiny black boots. Black, on top of black, on top of green. And flashy gold. He looks like an icon of himself. “And be well rewarded for your trouble.” 

Thor is staring, and he feels dumb. But what can he do, other than wait? He needs direction. A wrong move could cost him the encounter. Loki is, seemingly, in an uncharacteristically generous mood. And if Thor upsets the balance, he could find himself alone tonight. For many more nights. “Tell me, then,” he says, not quite a plea, but humble. “What do you want?” 

That might be too broad a question. Loki doesn’t answer right away. He keeps their gazes level, never breaking eye contact as he grinds his heels firmly against the floor. He spreads his legs apart, almost ruefully, and settles back into the seat. Thor drags his tongue over his bottom lip and tries to lean forward, but realizes he will come up far too short. 

His palms hit the ground, both at the same time. As sweaty as they feel, the floor is welcoming. Cool to the touch once he hits tile past the rug. He crawls towards his brother, covering the hair’s breadth of distance between them. He pushes his face between Loki’s thighs, feeling them clamp around his head, and he looks up, almost panicked, as if he had grievously erred. 

Loki seems to relish the expression on his brother’s face before pulling his thighs apart again with luxurious deliberation. Thor dares to reach up, placing his hands on his brother’s slim thighs, sliding them upward toward the fastener of his pants. 

It seems to come apart without much help from his fingers. Which is helpful, considering how clumsy they feel in the moment. Loki lifts his hips and Thor pulls his pants down, one strong hand rubbing against the bulge through thin fabric, almost like satin, before he pulls the undergarments down as well. Loki’s cock is already half-erect, and Thor’s touch seems to inspire life. Thor strokes the length with one finger at first, the silky foreskin moving with him, and then he wraps his fingers around the shaft as it hardens – until it is firm enough that he can grip it in his hand. 

He looks up at his brother, eyes like dark grey clouds as he opens his mouth, pulling his hot red tongue over the blushing head of Loki’s elegant cock. A sharp intake of breath, and Loki stiffens in his seat, his fingers curling again, gripping the arms of the chair. Encouraged, Thor wraps his lips around the head, sucking, swirling his tongue over the smooth top and prodding at the slit. He can taste the pre-cum, already, little more than a glistening strand that betrays his brother’s enjoyment.

Loki’s lips part, just slightly, enough to let out a tremor of a sound. Thor takes in even more, sliding his mouth down the full length of his brother’s cock, pausing every inch or so to suck, to slide his tongue up and down the slender shaft, tracing the throbbing vein underneath. He finally stops at the hilt, feeling the head hitting the back of his throat. He’s well-versed in this, but he still gags a little, his throat contracting around the trickster god’s cock. Loki’s hips buck, and his hand comes down against the back of Thor’s head. Frigid fingers bury themselves in thick golden locks as he grips Thor’s hair tightly, pressing his knuckles against the base of his brother’s skull and pushing his head down. Loki moans, a celestial sound, and Thor starts breathing through his nose, taking only a moment longer to adjust before starting to bob his head up and down, his tongue racing faster, his hands pressing down against his brother’s thighs, pinning Loki down. 

He draws himself up the length of Loki’s cock again and then slides off, his mouth leaving the head with a wet pop, and he drags his tongue over the underside, letting it rub against his face. He nuzzles further down, pressing his nose against Loki’s balls. His tongue flickers over them and he pauses long enough to suck on each one, a hand coming up to stroke Loki’s shaft while he did so, never once leaving it neglected. 

“Thor,” warning, need, such desire, so close – Loki’s words are everything. His voice, his… 

Thor takes Loki’s cock again, swallowing the entire length until his nose is pressed up against Loki’s skin. He breathes deeply, sucking harder than before, strong fingers massaging Loki’s balls, fingers pressing up to the soft, vulnerable space just behind them. A myriad of cries, wrenched from his brother’s throat as Loki twists, hips undulating, cock thrusting deeper down his brother’s throat- 

It doesn’t take much longer. Loki’s sharp nails drive into the back of Thor’s skull, and his brother lets out a sharp, piercing cry as he releases his pleasure down Thor’s throat. The god of thunder swallows it all, sucking until he feels like he licked up every last drop, and then finally pulls himself away from his brother’s cock. Thor falls back on his heels, panting, looking up at his brother with his lips, swollen and red, barely parted – and his long blonde hair falling into those stormy eyes. 

“Konungr,” Thor smiles, genuinely, flashing white teeth. His posture is relaxed, his eyes reveal his desperation for approval. 

Loki collapses against the back of his chair, lifting one leg and resting his boot on Thor’s shoulder. “Not a bad start, brother mine,” he laughs, delighted at his own conquest. “Now we will see if I can get you to be more – creative.”


End file.
